


Hark at the Wind

by fouronforeplay, thatcrudeandknavishsprite



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, M/M, Monkey's Paw, Prescription Drug Use, Wish Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:58:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4710158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fouronforeplay/pseuds/fouronforeplay, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatcrudeandknavishsprite/pseuds/thatcrudeandknavishsprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Concept taken from the short story "The Monkey's Paw" by W.W. Jacobs. If you wish on a monkey's paw, it will come true, but there are always consequences for changing fate. Jeff makes his wishes for Richie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hark at the Wind

He told himself he’d never touch the thing again, not after how it affected things the last time. The aftermath had been awful, but he and Richie had both been more or less fine in the end, and now they have two Cups to show for it. But he’s getting desperate – he must be, if he’s seriously considering this – and he doesn’t have any alternatives left. Surely, he tells himself, using the second wish couldn’t end any worse than the first.

Jeff clutches the shriveled flesh of the monkey’s paw in his hands and wishes.

 

**

 

“Where’s Toff?” Jeff asks as he and Lewie start gathering up the boys for two-touch. They play the Jets in a few hours, and as the All-Star break looms, points are becoming a hotter commodity by the day. Jeff needs his line to be in top form, no matter how many so-called “dad speeches” to Toff and Pears it takes.

“Didn’t you hear? Kid came down with mono. He’s out indefinitely,” Lewie replies.

“Shit,” Jeff hisses, “that sucks. So, um, you think you’re gonna be up on my line then?”

“Maybe, but you never know with Darryl.”

Jeff nods, his mind already elsewhere. He hopes this isn’t his doing, but he knew there would be consequences. Last time he’d taken the bulk of them, or so he’d thought. No bystanders had gotten hurt, at least. It’s only mono, Jeff tells himself, and Toff’s a strong kid. He’ll be back in no time, he’ll be none the wiser, and this will all be worth it. It has to be. 

 

**

 

They lose the game in a shootout on Richie’s shot. Shootout losses seem to be a theme these days, and it’s not really Richie’s fault, or Quickie’s. Jeff shot third. He should’ve scored; they should’ve won on his shot.

And then there’s Pears, who went down hard in the middle of the second and didn’t come back. Jeff watched it happen, powerless to do anything but keep playing and try to win it for him. There was no update at second intermission beyond that Pears had been taken to the hospital, but after the game Darryl tells the team that Pears’ leg is broken and he’s likely to miss the rest of the season. He could be back in time for playoffs, but they need to make them first, focus on that.

Jeff hopes the panic doesn’t show on his face. He swallows. It’s all going to be worth it, he repeats in his head. It has to be.

He meets Richie’s eyes across the room and gives him a small smile, getting one of Richie’s most private grins in return. Despite the shootout, the loss, and Jeff’s line falling down around him, they can still find comfort in each other. Besides, they have plans tonight – a hot date with a couple of beers and some Netflix on Richie’s couch, then bed. Some normalcy will be good tonight. It’ll make everything seem less huge, less threateningly awful. It’ll remind Jeff why he did what he did.

 

**

 

A few days later, Joner has back spasms and ends up on IR with the rest of the kids, also out indefinitely. Jeff only worries for a moment, until he’s reassured by a text from Joner that “back spasms” is code for “my roommate and Toff (who totally doesn’t live here, no matter what he says) are whiny babies and need someone to stay home and take care of them for a few days.”

In a show of sympathy, Jeff brings over some soup. Pears squints suspiciously at Jeff from his carefully arranged nest of pillows on the couch, but doesn’t seem to want to say anything. Toff sits on the opposite edge of the couch, in a comparable nest of blankets, clutching the mug of tea Joner just brought him.

“Thanks,” Joner tells Jeff as he hands over the soup. “I’ve been waiting hand and foot on them all day. At least this way I don’t have to make dinner too.”

“Thanks for the soup, dad,” Toff adds hoarsely.

Pears is still squinting. “We’re cursed,” he says after a long minute, looking right at Jeff. He probably means it to be accusing, Jeff thinks, but it comes out more slurred than anything.

“Sure we are, buddy,” Joner replies, taking it in stride. Turning to Jeff, he adds, “He’s been like this all day. I doubt he’ll remember anything he’s said when he weans off the Vicodin.”

“Oh yeah, everyone says crazy shit when they’re on meds. You should write this down, use it to chirp him later,” Jeff says. He tries to convince himself that he’s just being paranoid, that Pears isn't really accusing him of anything.

“No, ‘m _serious_. Cursed. Me and Toff are. Joner is a little. Carts isn’t at all. He looks fine and we’re all... purple. And fuzzy. But everything’s fuzzy...” Pears trails off, muttering.

Instead of dismissing him again, Joner and Toff look over at Pears questioningly, as if they might actually believe him. Pears has always had a knack for sensing magic; he’s told Jeff as much, and no doubt shared it with Joner and Toff too. But he’s also very high. Jeff will only need to worry if he repeats it when he’s sober.

Jeff makes his excuses and leaves as quickly as he can manage.

 

**

 

At the end of the All-Star break, Toff delightedly informs the team via group text that he’s been cleared to return. _Back in action on Wednesday_ , Jeff reads, followed by a bunch of sunglasses and blushy-cheeks emojis.

A few hours later, Richie calls, his voice too serious for the good news. “Carts. They’re– they’re sending me down. Or maybe just away. I’ve been put on waivers. Dean just called to tell me. It’s gonna hit the press any second now but I thought you’d want to know first.”

Jeff sits down. “But– they can’t,” he says lamely. He has nothing coherent to say. This should be impossible. He took every measure. It was all supposed to be worth it.

Richie laughs harshly. “Apparently they can, and they are. I’ve been playing like shit lately, and the team needs to make the playoffs. I’m just not their best shot at doing that anymore.”

Jeff thinks of all the guys on his teams who have been up and down to the minors over the years, remembering acutely how that’s never been the path for him and Richie. The veterans never come back quite the same. Sometimes they have renewed determination to prove themselves, but Jeff’s seen too many times the broken look behind a vet’s eyes when he comes back from the A, when he knows he’s past his peak and has to endure the decline. He tried everything to prevent seeing Richie get broken like that, and he failed.

“You want some company?” Jeff tries.

“Nah, just want to spend one more night in my house alone, hang out with my dog. Will you come pick up Arnold in the morning, though? I’m flying out midday, as soon as I figure out where. But we can do breakfast if you want.” Richie sounds like he could really use the company right now, but Jeff is going to respect his space if he says he needs it.

“Okay. Tomorrow,” he says, and Richie hangs up. Jeff has roughly twelve hours to fix this, and he thinks he knows where to start.

 

**

 

As soon as he hears Richie disconnect, he calls Toff. Before Toff can say anything, Jeff jumps in, livid, "What did you fucking do? Have you been fucking around with magic?"

Toff’s taken aback, and after a pause, replies slowly, "We were cursed, but it's fine now. We broke it. How’d you know?"  
  
"You _fucking idiots_. I wished on a monkey's paw for Richie to stay here, and stay in the lineup. And you ruined it. He’s being sent down.” Jeff is steaming, pacing his kitchen just for something to do.  
  
"You did _what_?” Toff almost screeches. “You didn’t consider that other people might be affected? That they might be the ones to take the consequences? And you didn’t even say anything? I didn't think you were that much of a selfish piece of shit, even if it's not technically for you. Fuck you, man."   
  
Jeff stops pacing. He's quiet for a moment, shocked that Toff could have that much anger in him. Then, with his rage and his voice more muted, Jeff says, "I thought it would be like before, in Columbus. I thought _I_ would have to pay the price, probably my foot again. I didn't realize then that it was Richie's head being affected too. I just wanted us to win the Cup together, and now I just want him to stay. And it's your fault that's not happening."

There’s a long, considering silence on the other end.  
  
"I need to make this right. I need you to help me make this right. For Richie."  
  
"I don't know what we can do. The damage is already done." Toff sighs.  
  
Jeff thinks of Pears' season, ended by his action. He thinks of Richie, already packing for whichever team will take him, or Manch if no one will. "Yeah, I guess it has."

With nothing left for either of them to say, they hang up.

 

**

 

Quickie, of all people, shows up at Jeff’s door, beer in hand. 

"Joner called. You don't have to talk, but I also don't want to get Brownie involved."  
  
Jeff lets him in, unsure what to say. Not everyone on the team knows about – or believes in – wish magic, but Quickie definitely does. He’s skilled at working with it, too, but if he already had a solution he’d have opened with that.  
  
Quickie opens a beer and parks himself on Jeff’s couch, sitting in aggressively ambivalent silence until Jeff gives in and starts talking.

 

**

 

The next morning, Jeff is a little hungover, but he’s pretty sure the awkwardness isn’t just coming from his headache. There’s a palpable tension in the kitchen as Jeff makes their omelettes the way they like them – Richie’s with mushrooms and chives, his own with peppers. Even Arnold has sensed it, wandering off and missing out on breakfast scraps. Richie sits in silence, drinking his coffee and fidgeting with his phone, waiting to find out where he’s going.

 Jeff has done his best to be Richie's one sure thing, but for the second time, hockey has made it so Richie can't be a sure thing for Jeff. He's tried to fix it all the ways he knows how: playing better hockey, alternately begging and threatening management, using magic.

It's an even worse feeling than last time – more up in the air, less certain that they'll have time left in their careers to ever play together again if Richie’s been claimed. They'll be even farther apart if he hasn’t. This all rushes through Jeff’s mind as he flips their omelettes, with the looping undercurrent of _it's all my fault, it's all my fault_. It was his first wish that got them there to begin with. 

Jeff's never told Richie about the wishes, though he’s wanted to. Richie doesn't know about magic, as far as Jeff knows, and he gets the feeling Richie wouldn't approve even if he did believe. Besides, Jeff can’t admit aloud to the lingering guilt about Richie's concussions, about the problem they’ve caused with his painkiller use. He wants to fix it, somehow. However he can.  
  
If he can find a way to fix it, if he makes it right, he can finally come clean. And then he'll have nothing of himself held back from Richie, and they can finally be committed to each other the way Jeff’s been craving for so long. If they can get there, it will all have been worth it.

The phone rings.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to ionthesparrow and teshumai for looking this over. This was originally chatfic written when Richie got sent down at the end of January. Title comes from the original short story.
> 
> Backstory from the prequel that will probably never get written: A monkey's paw gives you three wishes. Jeff's first wish was for him and Richie to win the Cup together. He made it on June 22, 2011; the next day, they were both traded, and he swore off ever using the paw again. The consequences were Jeff's broken foot, CBJ fans' endless resentment of him, and though he didn't know it, Richie's concussion. But they got their Cup out of it, and a second one all on their own, so he has faith in the system, but is hesitant. Jeff has yet to use his third wish.


End file.
